As you push on, heading from one point to another, you pass those old places off the highway. Setting there alone, usually abandoned, visited only by the harsh weather and the occasional person with a camera.

I often wonder who originally stopped along the way on some wagon rutted road or dirt tract and considered the vistas, the land, the water, or lack thereof, and the possibilities. Were they alone? Was it two brothers, a man and woman, a family, a lone soul? What time of year was it? How did they come by the building materials and how long did it take to build the home? 

What dreams did they have? They had probably escaped the confines of civilization, but were they lonely? 

Those Old Places: Don’t You Wonder? @ SwittersB